


we can dance (everybody's takin' the chance)

by riverdanceeee



Series: the klance playlist [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cyberpunk, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME WEAR HELMETS, First Meetings, Fluff, Klance AU Month 2019, Leakira au, M/M, Motorcycle Chase, Rating for Language, akira breaks laws for leandro and that's romantic, escaping drones, fuck the government, gratuitous love for safety dance, late night runs, leakira - Freeform, or: leandro doesnt know his 80s music THAT well, there's a lot of shots fired but no one gets hurt, this got me into college wasssssuuuppppp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 09:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17865089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverdanceeee/pseuds/riverdanceeee
Summary: “Start the bike!” the stranger pleads, sparkling eyes wide and beads of sweat rolling down his face.The young man wears a navy blue turtleneck under his long, army green jacket that cuts off at his knees. A holster wraps around his waist, holding two white and blue guns. He has cinnamon skin sprinkled by freckles and an undercut that allows light brown curls to sit atop his head. His eyes are also irresistibly blue, like the blue that fills the sky before the sun begins to set. Something about him makes Akira want to hide. Not out of fear, but of some sort of panic, because he’s absolutely gorgeous.Akira does not do well around absolutely gorgeous people.Akira's spending his peaceful night observing the city until a beautiful stranger needs his help escaping the government's drones.





	we can dance (everybody's takin' the chance)

**Author's Note:**

> inspo: ["the safety dance" by men without hats](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-wbQY7Hz_Ns) \+ [this entire playlist by](https://open.spotify.com/user/rqqj8b0lfpn6rkaavmk2re582/playlist/4BbiuyZuQ7cwQY4KRp5uEE?si=9wxzhjIkRci39BwmgfGPeA) [@quenepafruit](https://twitter.com/quenepafruit)
> 
>  
> 
> another one for klance au month! i was hoping to post more for it but i'm busy with school :/ and if i do it'll be LAAATE lol  
> anyways leakira was created by [@kciths](https://twitter.com/kciths) and @captainlumin (who unfortunately doesnt have a twitter anymore) everybody say thank u  
> in this they don't have powers or at least they're not _explicitly_ said and i made up the city idk what certza is lol i think i came up with it while looking at the word seltzer?? i wrote this a while ago and never posted it but yeah that's my take!

Once the stars dust the night sky over Certza, neon lights that trace the roofs of each building turn on, decorating the area with hues of sapphire, coral, and violet. The streets are usually empty, except for the few flashes of speeding motorcycles racing by. Only drunkards are out, entering and exiting bars. A low booming sound from the club several blocks down echoes between the towers and shakes the ground. There’s no rain in the forecast, but the high moon is shrouded in dark grey clouds. 

 

The occasional buzzing drone flies above, keeping a keen eye on the citizens. Their silver bodies and green-lit eyes stand out against the backlights of the city. It’s the most efficient way the government takes care of crime—a cheaper alternative to police officers, but a faster way to catch criminals.

 

Despite all this, Akira finds the nightlife of Certza peaceful. He leans on his parked cherry motorcycle, goggles pushed back onto his head. There’s a flickering sign from the bar across the street that reads Astro Drinks. He hears the soft sound of the flowing river behind him, gently crashing against the concrete that encloses it. In the near distance, the city lights reflect off the shiny silver bridge over the water, illuminating the ripples the way a club lights the dance floor.

 

It’s a perfect hour. 

 

A glass breaks inside the bar, followed by more shattering and a roar that echoes out from the crack in the double doors. The boom from the music changes beat, a tad faster and definitely more chaotic. A car cruises by, greeting him with a new wave of fresh air, and Akira is reminded of how  _ good _ this life is. Contrary to what his family said, moving from their small town was worth it. He needed time away from home, where everything was catered to him and not an ounce of freedom was granted. Now he’s on his own with a job that pays well and a motorcycle he treasures. Albeit he’s a little sheltered away in the new city, there’s nothing that can possibly enter and change the comfortable, solo dynamic he’s created.

 

Akira hears a piercing yell come from down the street and turns toward the sound. He squints against the dark. A small figure runs toward him, cast in shadows, arms waving above their head. Akira straightens up as the figure pounds closer.

 

“Start the bike!” he shouts from the distance.

 

Akira freezes. He looks past himself to see if maybe he is talking to someone else, but no one’s in his vicinity. When he turns back, the man is right in front of him, frantically bouncing on his heels and pointing at the motorcycle.

 

“Start the  _ bike! _ ” the stranger pleads, sparkling eyes wide and beads of sweat rolling down his face. 

 

The young man wears a navy blue turtleneck under his long, army green jacket that cuts off at his knees. A holster wraps around his waist, holding two white and blue guns. He has cinnamon skin sprinkled by freckles and an undercut that allows light brown curls to sit atop his head. His eyes are also irresistibly blue, like the blue that fills the sky before the sun begins to set. Something about him makes Akira want to hide. Not out of fear, but of some sort of panic, because he’s absolutely gorgeous. 

 

Akira does not do well around absolutely gorgeous people.

 

“What?” Akira mumbles, slowly getting out of the daze those blue eyes put him in. The other boy sighs, grabbing onto his shoulders and turning him towards his own motorcycle.

 

“I’m trying to run away here!” he says breathlessly, pushing Akira forward. “Start the stupid bike,  _ please. _ Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up—”

 

Akira is forced onto his motorcycle and the man jumps in behind, still chanting. He pulls down his goggles and revs up the engine. His electronic music blasts through the speakers.

 

Then he thinks—what the  _ fuck _ is he doing? Letting someone take advantage of him? He has every right to go against this. Akira doesn’t have to drive some beautiful stranger God knows where, doesn’t have to let him be in complete control over him, but he doesn’t feel like  _ stopping _ it either. There’s no problem in helping those in need.

 

“Oh, I love this song dude,” the stranger says over the noise. “Helmets?”

 

“Left them at home,” Akira answers. He doesn’t usually bring out his helmet, much less a  _ second _ one when he’s slowly cruising the city at night. It’s empty and he spends more time parked next to the river than actually driving, so it’s pointless.

 

“WHAT!” the other screeches erratically.

 

_ We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind. _

 

Akira shrugs and drives onto the street, easing onto it slowly as an extra precaution. A pair of arms goes around his waist, making his entire body tense up. He doesn’t usually act like this—he’s had plenty of people ride with him before, but none as handsome as the man behind him.

 

“This is nice,” the stranger says calmly, loosening his hold around Akira’s waist.

 

The ends of Akira’s lips slightly curl into a smile, but it fades as quickly as the buzzing sound of the drone—no,  _ several _ drones—intensifies.

  
“They’re here for me!” the other screams over the roar of the engine, grasping Akira’s waist tight.

 

“They’re  _ what? _ ” Akira screams back. He looks over his shoulder to see a herd of triangular drones shining eerie green lights at them from above. His heart beats faster, nearly breaking through his ribs. “You’re running away from the  _ drones? _ ”

 

“Drive faster!”

 

“No!”

 

“There’s a pack of  _ laser-shooting drones  _ behind us, and you won’t drive faster?”

 

“We don’t have helmets!” his voice cracks as he reasons.

 

A laser beam strikes next to the motorcycle. Akira swerves his motorcycle to the right, tire fiercely driving over an unsuspecting bump. He increases his speed, but it only encourages more drones attack. Now his heart is racing thousands of miles per second because of the imminent danger and annoyingly cute boy pressed behind him.

 

“If you drive faster, we can get rid of them together,” he yells into his ear. “Trust me!”

 

The stranger places his hand on Akira’s shoulder and squeezes. Something about that action relaxes Akira, makes his nerves calm like the humming below his thighs. The idea of speeding through the bare roads of the city gives him the biggest adrenaline rush of his life.

 

Pressing hard on the clutch, Akira races down the main street and toward the bridge.

 

_ I say, we can go where we want to, a place where they will never find. _

 

The stranger behind hollers loudly as the neon lights zoom by in streaks. Akira lets himself foolishly grin as he turns onto the empty bridge. The noise of the drones, the music, and the buzz of the engine fill his ears. He goes faster, drifting to take a left turn, and Akira feels lighter than ever, nothing holding him back.

 

Then he feels the arms around his waist leave him. He frantically glances behind him as more shots fire.

 

A single white laser strikes a drone. It instantly crashes to the ground, wires sputtering out of its body. Akira’s eyes trace the shot back to the boy behind him, body twisted, sporting goggles that match the blue and white color of the dual-wielding guns in his hands. He shoots both of them simultaneously and, with perfect aim, shoots down several more drones. The stranger twists back at Akira, lips quirked into a smirk.

 

Akira swears he melts.

 

“Watch out!” he yells, pointing up ahead.

 

Akira whips his head back to see them heading for a tree. He swerves recklessly back onto the road, glancing behind to make sure the other is still on his vehicle. The shots aimed at them stop, but the sound of buzzing in the distance returns.

 

“Where’d you get the goggles from?” Akira asks as he balances the vehicle. He doesn’t recall seeing them beforehand.

 

“They activate when I take out my guns,” the stranger says, pressing his torso to Akira’s back. “Also, pay attention to the road, or your license will get revoked. Can you lose these stupid drones any faster? They’re dumb enough to get lost trying to find the bike.”

 

“It’s a motorcycle,” Akira says. He hates it when people call it a bike. It’s motorized and complex and loud and too cool to be called a  _ bike. _

 

“Just help me get rid of them, please,” he begs. Akira gazes back at him to see the goggles are gone and his guns are in their holsters around his waist, hidden well by his jacket.

 

He turns back to road, running a red light without a second thought. “Can’t believe I’m doing this,” he mutters. “I don’t even know your name.”

 

A short pause, and then, “Leandro.”

 

_ Leandro. _ A name to the smile that’s been making his mind go haywire. It seems right out of a fairytale, a name given to a prince from a faraway land, loved by the whole kingdom.

 

Leandro sighs contently and wraps his arms around Akira’s waist again. If it were any other person, Akira wouldn’t flush like he is right now. Leandro is unlike any person he’s met before. Impulsive and reckless but trustworthy and sharp-witted. Perfect hand-eye coordination. A sass that somehow doesn’t annoy him. He shakes his head and speeds up to stop his thinking.

 

_ We can go when we want to, the night is young and so am I. _

 

Akira veers into an alleyway, leaning to the right as he does so. He looks up ahead at the narrow road, deciding where to go next. He doesn’t know the alleys of Certza too well, which is most unfortunate considering the circumstance, but he does his best to materialize a mental recollection of a map of the city. Mid-thought the drones catch up to them, blasting senselessly and getting too close for comfort.

 

“Go left!” Leandro says.

 

Without question, Akira drifts to the left, dust flying around his motorcycle as he increases speed once more.

 

“Where do I go next?” Akira asks over the music, seeing nothing but dull gray buildings in the distance.

 

“Right!” Leandro removes one arm from Akira’s waist. “I’ll get to shootin’.”

 

Akira nods and goes right as soon as possible. Up ahead is a dead end, trash piled high against a concrete wall blocking his way. The alley is littered with torn up furnishings—a couch turned on its side, a cracked mirror, and some faulty computers. No exit in sight. Panic grips his body.

 

“It’s a dead end!” There’s no ramp that can elevate him over it, and even if they were to climb, the drones could still get them.

 

“I know!” Leandro’s voice is loud and certain, not an ounce of doubt to it. “You’re making a U-turn. We’re facing them head on.”

 

Akira scoffs. “No  _ helmets _ , Leandro!”

 

“I trust you dude!”

 

“Hey, are you fucking nuts?”

 

A chuckle is thrown into the crisp night air. “You can bet your cute ass I am!”

 

_ Don’t think about it, _ Akira tells himself as he thinks about it regardless. He sighs, noticing there’s no  _ safe _ way to make a U-turn in the alley, but there is still a way.

 

“Hold on tight!” Akira warns, gripping the handles so tightly, his knuckles turn red.

 

Akira hits the brakes and drifts to the side. The back wheel slides on the road till the motorcycle is leaning on its side, dust flying everywhere until they stop inches before the wall. Down the road, a hoard of drones turn towards them, already shooting mercilessly.

 

“You’re amazing,” Leandro says breathlessly, the warmth of his laugh passing over his ear.

 

Akira’s cheeks warm at the compliment. He so desperately wants to flatter his shooting skills, but the words get stuck in his dry throat. Instead, he keeps quiet. He’s riding on so much adrenaline, his words would only come out jumbled. 

 

“Let’s get these stupid drones.”

 

_ I can act like an imbecile; And say we can dance, we can dance, everything’s out of control. _

 

Revving up the motorcycle, he turns toward the drones, bending forward as he watches his speed meter go dangerously red. Akira squeezes the clutches with all his might, wind howling as he drives ahead. Glowing white laser beams shoot out from Leandro’s guns behind him, taking down drones left and right. Still, the silver bots relentlessly shoot at the two from high above.

 

The distance between them and the hoard of drones decreases. The line of fire is heavier and Akira only prays they make it out of the alley unharmed. He speeds up just as they drive under the drones. He peeks to his left and sees their reflection in the cracked mirror resting against the walls of the alley. Behind him, Leandro’s leaning away from him, his back barely hovering over the back wheel, shooting the drones from below. His curls seem to defy the pressing force of gravity, staying perfectly complacent in such grim circumstances. The sides of his jacket fall to the side, revealing a slim torso his navy shirt defines to the best of its abilities. Long arms stretched up, a series of shots fire toward the sky, drones falling to the side of the vehicle each time. The final two fall to the ground just as they make their way out from under, sputtering until the green lights shut off. Akira looks straight ahead.

 

Leandro sits back up, pressing against Akira’s back. “Pretty cool, huh?” he teases.

 

Akira nods. He’s never met anybody who could stop his train of thought so quickly, make his mind go blank just at the sound of his voice, let him ride his motorcycle and break some laws.

 

It’s concerning.

 

“There’s a club down this alley,” he casually mentions. “You can drop me off there.”

 

Akira slows down. It’s been a wild ride—one he would never take unless the situation was most dire—yet he doesn’t want it to end. He kind of wants to cruise down Certza in the middle of the night with a cute boy hugging his waist for hours, counting how many shades of neon lights flicker off the buildings. The moon is free and the clouds are gone, meaning they’ve got all the time in the world if they dare to use it. Is that too much to ask for?

 

_ We've got all your life and mine. As long as we abuse it, never gonna lose it, everything'll work out right. _

 

“Oh, going slower now, huh?” Leandro’s voice drips with unadulterated wit. “Trying to stretch our time together?”

 

“No helmets,” Akira points out, discovering it’s a good enough excuse. Leandro laughs out loud behind him, slapping his thigh.

 

“You’re funny, bike guy.”

 

Akira lets it slip.

 

The rest of the short ride is silent, the electric tune of the song still blasting through his speakers. He reluctantly parks in front of a club with yellow lights that flash Cosmic House. His new acquaintance gets off, standing awkwardly on the sidewalk as he stares at Akira. The light halos around him. He can’t help but think that’s some sort of sign, maybe from God, maybe from the club, from whoever wants to turn Akira’s life upside down.

 

“I could get you a drink if you want?” he offers, jerking a thumb behind his shoulder at Cosmic House. “Or, maybe not, since you’re driving. Something to eat?”

 

Akira looks at the clock on the dash of the motorcycle. It’s 2:56 AM, meaning if Akira doesn’t get at least four hours of sleep soon, he’ll be late to work and probably fired. He frowns, turning back to the stranger.

 

“Sorry.” The word bleeds with regret. “I’ve got work in the morning.”

 

“Then how about a raincheck?”

 

“I’m free tomorrow, actually.” Akira pulls a hair band from his wrist and begins gathering hair. He ties it off behind his head, letting his arms fall to the side. They’re a little sore from all the driving. “But it’s gotta be earlier than this. Like, at least six hours earlier.”

 

There’s no response for a few seconds until Akira looks at Leandro. He’s staring at him with a toothy grin. He then nods and Akira laughs, hoping he was watching him do such a simple action with a lovely smile like that.

 

“Sounds like a plan,” he responds eagerly. “We’ll meet here, six hours earlier than three in the morning.”

 

Akira smiles back, thinking of what to say. He doesn’t want to go home yet—he’d love to sit down and eat with him tonight—but that mechanics job is as good as it gets, and he can’t afford to lose it over a boy he only met on a midnight run.

 

“Sorry for forcing this mess on you,” Leandro says guiltily, hands digging into the pockets of his jacket. “I never did get your name, by the way.”

 

“Akira,” he informs him. “Don’t worry about it. I had…fun.”

 

“Akira.” Something about how he says it has Akira’s skin forming goosebumps under his jacket. Leandro smiles brightly and Akira’s heart beats to the fast paced ending of the song.

 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Akira starts, hands sweating behind his fingerless gloves, “why were the drones coming after you?”

 

“How about I tell you that tomorrow?” he offers. “It’s a long story. Crime fighting, doing good for the better of humanity, all that heroic stuff.”

 

Akira chuckles. The guy he picked up off the street  _ had _ to be a little mysterious, didn’t he? Just his luck.

 

“If you don’t mind  _ me _ asking,” Leandro starts, “what’s the name of that song? I’ve heard it so many times but never got the title.”

 

Akira presses the back button on his radio, replaying the song. “‘The Safety Dance.’ It’s kind of obvious, the song says it a million times. They even spell it out for us.”

 

“‘The Safety Dance?’  _ That _ was playing while I was shooting drones and you were breaking traffic laws?” Leandro laughs, holding his stomach to stifle himself. “The irony.”

 

Akira shrugs, revving up his motorcycle one more time. He really doesn’t want to go. He isn’t going to sleep tonight. The smile, the eyes, the magnificent shooting skills—he’s going to be thinking about it, watching the events replay themselves like a video on loop, and oh he’s so screwed. There’s no turning back from this.

 

“See you tomorrow, Leandro,” he says softly, giving him a final smile.

 

“See you, Akira,” he answers, returning the smile with a grin and finger guns pointed at him. He walks backward towards the club as Akira starts driving away.

 

He feels giddy the entire way home, a laugh constantly bubbling up as he remembers the eccentric boy that dashed the empty streets with him. He hasn’t had that much fun in so long, not since he left his home to live in some perfect isolation he made in his head. 

 

Maybe Akira’s life  _ can _ get better. Maybe Leandro’s just the person he needs to enter his life and skew every path he ever made. Maybe fate gave him the sign that this is for the best, for his best. For  _ their _ best.

 

_ We can dance, we can dance. Everybody's takin’ the chance. _

 

**Author's Note:**

> hello i have heart eyes for kudos and comments especially so leave those if you liked this!!  
> fun fact: i wrote this for a college application ????????? and i'm still waiting to get a response HAHAHAHAAH i am very nervous about it but it's gucci it's gucci _**itssomotherfuckinggucci**_ but if you want to know if i got in or whatever i'll probably tweet about it so uhhhh  
>  **UPDATE: I GOT INTO NYU AHHHHHHHHH**
> 
> follow me on my social(s):  
> twitter: [@Ianwngjis](https://twitter.com/Ianwngjis)
> 
> again none of the works in this series are connected and each can be read on their own!! thank you for reading!!!!


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